The brook and breeze were singing
by public static void
Summary: The creature's dragon-like wings were not the only feature that caught him. As soon as he saw his eyes, he froze and stared openly at the creature who had followed him for years. AU!


For the Fanfiction Tournament Competition - Theme 2: Everything's AU - In this AU, Tom Riddle is not a Dark Lord, but a fairy.

 **AN:** This is AU, as already stated above. Tom Riddle is not a Dark Lord, but a fairy. This doesn't mean Harry isn't the Boy-Who-Lived, only that he isn't the Chosen One.

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Grandma Euphemia's home was beautiful. With ivy-covered walls and a vast garden filled with fragrant gardenias and red camellias, the place became Harry's haven. Here, the pine tree woods surrounding Grandma's home made him feel safe, a sensation he had forgotten long ago. The memories of a warm place in which he was held against his mother's shoulder were faded and almost lost to him. From his parents, he only had the surname and a locked chest with photographs that would have to act as memories.

The tranquil atmosphere at Grandma's home took his mind away from the troubling matters brewing back in London. The tales of a Dark Lord rising so soon after the last one were certainly more than rumours, but Harry didn't know the exact truth. It was something he had ceased to search: the truth did nothing but harm those who sought it. He thought back to the ordeal with the Mirror of Erised, where he saw himself as _something more_ and tried to know what it meant. He only earned a reprimand for pursuing a dark artifact.

"I will be downstairs if you need me," said Grandma through the door. Her voice was condescending and Harry counted to five before replying.

"Alright, Grandma. I'll be down for tea."

He wasn't used to be looked after. At Hogwarts, he had to care for himself and whenever he went home for the holidays, he would be treated as an adult. His parents, a busy Auror and an important Unspeakable, barely had time for him. He didn't mind, and instead considered the proof of his parents' trust in him.

He set his backpack on the bed, taking a photograph out. The three of them were the flawless picture of a perfect family. His father looked handsome wearing dark red and black, and his mother was a goddess in purple and amber. Himself, dressed in green and black, was a prize flaunted to their friends. As he set the picture on the nightstand, Harry regretted those thoughts. He knew they had loved him; the scar on his forehead left no doubts of that.

They just hadn't known how to love.

The small cup of the Triwizard Tournament came out of the backpack next. Made of metal and magic, it vibrated against his hand. Harry put it next to the picture. Where one was a duty, the other was an honour. Being a _Potter_ meant more to him than anything else. Both his father and mother were _relevant_ and he wanted to be like them. Otherwise, he would never feel comfortable bearing that surname so often associated with great deeds. So he entered the Tournament in his fourth year and became the youngest Champion in four hundred years. The celebration was the last time he saw his parents smiling like that, and the memory hurt still.

"Can I bring you anything?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He walked to the door and opened it. His grandmother was an ancient witch, having been old when his father was born. Her hair was white and her eyes grey, but the wrinkles in her skin told him she was still happy. The laughter never ceased in that house, and so he chose to go there instead of getting his own place after the Good Knights' attack at Godric's Hollow.

"I'd like to be alone, Grandma," he said in a pleasant but cold voice. "Call me when Grandpa gets here."

She nodded, but before going away she stepped on her toes to kiss his forehead. The tingling sensation of her magic made the scar on his forehead pulsate.

"We will be fine, Harry," she told him as she walked down the stairs.

Only then did Harry realised he hadn't been the only one who lost family that night. She and Grandpa had lost a son and a daughter-in-law. He cursed the Dark Lord and his Good Knights for the hundredth time; without them, he would still have his parents and his grandparents wouldn't be burdened with him.

"How gentle, Harry," came a voice from the window.

It was an unnatural voice heavy with subtle power and the feeling of mystery. Harry could immediately tell who it was. He turned to see _him_ , the creature who had been following him for years.

"Good evening, Tom," he said, bowing to the creature with feigned respect. As always, he had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the glowing wings on his back.

The resplendent, dragon-like wings of black and green were not the only features of the creature that caught Harry. As soon as he saw the crimson eyes he clenched his jaw. Those were eyes he had seen in his dreams, mocking and haunting him until he awoke covered in sweat and wishing to be someplace else, where his heart wouldn't ache with the loneliness and the blood wouldn't rush through his veins with the angry reminder of the Dark Lord.

"Is it?" the creature asked, mocking as always. "One would think the poor, orphaned young wizard would be devastated at the loss of his parents. _Good evening_ is not the greeting of a devastated soul."

"You would know of that," retorted Harry with anger. The creature had done nothing but to try and rile him up for years. First with school-yard taunts of being a coward, then with cruel whispers of being nothing more than the shadow of a successful couple who wanted to be unburdened of their useless son. "Aren't you the unwanted child of a _human_ man?"

The red eyes flashed with wrath. In a heartbeat, the creature's hands were at Harry's throat and his teeth were bared, threatening as many other times. Harry had lost the count, but he couldn't say he had lost the fear. Tom looked sinister when angry, and the vast power at his disposal came to the surface, glowing like a falling star.

Fairies were supposed to be good and kind, but this monster was cruel and Harry didn't mind at all.

"If you kill me, who will be your _toy_?" he managed to ask. His lungs reached for air but he never moved. His wand was at hand, and he knew a curse to defend himself from creatures like Tom. Yet he liked the feeling of danger Tom brought.

Tom let go too soon. He stayed close, looming over Harry and smiling wickedly. Harry imagined his sharp teeth brushing against his lips and shivered. He shook his head, hoping Tom couldn't see through him.

"Who told you about the human?" Tom asked, charming. His tongue was silver while his heart was iron, and he could weave lies and compliments as well as he breathed. "No one was supposed to know about my magicless father. I am always amazed at your intelligence, Harry."

Harry smirked. Tom's tone of voice was eerily calm, reeking of desperation in an ironic way. His mind tricks didn't work with him.

"Be silent or my Grandmother will come," Harry told him. "You wouldn't want her to see you, right? That would destroy the myth of fairies being extinct and you would be hunted again."

Tom groaned as a child would. Harry was not surprised; the creature had a fiery temperament, a charming way with words, and an unpredictable personality. If he were human, Harry would call him a psychopath. He tilted his head to the side; well, he was half-human so that made him half-psychopath.

Harry chuckled at the thought.

"What is so funny?" Tom asked, annoyed and looking through the window. He scoffed at the withering camellias and waved a hand, making the sad flowers bloom again.

There were times like those when Harry didn't know if Tom was truly evil or if everything was a game. He couldn't think of the darkest wizard stopping by to heal the flowers of Grandma's garden.

"I just think you are really unique, Tom," Harry told the creature.

He sat on the bed and pulled his knees to his chest. Tom turned to stare at him with a peculiar look on his eyes.

"Do you ever wonder why I didn't take you away when you were a child?" Tom asked. This time he was serious and composed. If Harry didn't know him better, he would have said Tom was even nervous. "A changeling would have been a reward for your parents and I wouldn't have to lose my time coming to you each night."

Harry snorted and raised an eyebrow. He couldn't say the creature was lying then. He had done some borderline illegal things that had his parents calling in favours to help him.

"Was it because of the goodness of your heart?"

Now the creature snorted. "Fairies don't have hearts. We have wings instead. More useful."

Harry looked at the wings. They were truly beautiful and wonderful, though if they were a reflection of his non-existent heart then Harry now knew why they were black and frightening.

"Then I don't know."

Tom sighed. He seemed upset but Harry couldn't know why. Outside, the breeze barely moved the gardenia's petals. It was a haunting scene.

"Your Grandpa is here," he said after minutes of silence. Harry had stared at his wings, pondering on the truth of his statement about them being a replacement for the heart of a fairy. "Will you reconsider my offer?"

He did, as he had for the past two years. The resounding _no_ he had given countless times as a child no longer felt as a certainty and he wondered why could that be.

"Maybe," he finally said. "Could I have one more night to think about it?"

Tom groaned again. He walked up to Harry and looked down at him; Harry saw the anger in his features and fidgeted with his wand.

"I'll get tired of waiting and steal you," Tom said. His tone betrayed the harshness of the words themselves because there was an unmistakable longing in it. Harry fought against his wish to say _yes_.

"You _could_ seek another," he suggested half mocking, but the thought of the creature shadowing someone else made him uncomfortable. "But I'm sure my Grandma's camellias wouldn't be as beautiful without your gentle care."

The deep chuckle took Harry by surprise, as did Tom's fingers when they caressed his cheek. The tenderness of the gesture left him dizzy and he was thankful for being already sitting. Tom smelled of rain and gardenias.

Tom smirked at Harry's sharp intake of breath, perceiving the sensations he caused in the boy. He then moved to the window and glanced at the sky.

"Will you?" he asked when Tom looked like he was finally leaving. He stood from the bed and walked to the creature, stopping only when he was inches away from him.

"Seek another?" Tom asked and snorted. Harry had never thought, until then, about the Tom's so human actions. They had always felt normal, but under the moonlight, he looked the part of a fairy. His skin was pale and unblemished, and when he smiled Harry's heart danced.

"Why? A bit of rejection never stopped me from returning to you."

Harry licked his lips.

"What if I never say yes?"

Tom frowned. "Won't you?" he asked. "I never thought about that."

It sounded like a confession, but the underlying truth of Tom never straying from his wish of having him left Harry speechless.

"It will have to end at one point," Tom agreed, tilting his head to the side. The moonlight cast shadows over half his face, and the sharp angles were calling to be touched. For the first time, Harry was the one who dared to touch Tom.

His hand hesitated, hovering an inch from Tom's face. The smile on the fairy's face grew, wickedly mesmerising Harry.

"If you want me to leave, you're making it difficult," Tom breathed. Harry heard the need in his voice and retreated his fingers, clutching them in his other hand.

Tom groaned again and harshly took Harry's hand, gently placing it against his cheek. Tom's skin was as soft as the petals of the gardenias from the garden and Harry almost dared to say _yes_ and be gone with Tom.

"Will you wait another day?" Harry begged. "I can't leave my Grandma. She can't lose me too."

It was the truth. He saw it hidden in her smile when she picked him up at the Apparition point and heard it in her voice when she told him she baked him treacle tart, his favourite.

But then he saw Tom's eyes burning; the last of his will to stay vanished into the night.

"I would come back every night," Tom said fiercely and annoyed at the same time. "But what would it serve? You would only prolong the inevitable. I know you want to come with me."

The creature –Tom, his name is Tom– was right. Harry wasted no time in writing a note for his grandparents. He left it on the bed with the picture of his parents, hoping they would take it well...

 _I'm sorry_ , he thought, _but I need to do this. I_ want _Tom_.

In a heartbeat, he was gone and trying to forget the feelings of his grandparents. He was being selfish, but Tom's magic by his side had a calming effect on him. He thought about the power of a fairy. What if Tom's _abilities_ were making him act like this? He shook his head; he shouldn't blame Tom for his choices. He could have said no, but he didn't want that. He wanted Tom.

"What's next?" Harry said after a few minutes. The forest had never been so peaceful as in that moment, where the only lights were the stars and the shining black wings of Tom. He wondered if his life would be made of this kind of moments0 when everything seemed otherworldly in beauty and stillness.

Tom held his hand in his, painfully grasping the wrist in a possessive way. Harry liked his touch, dangerous and addictive.

"Now you're mine, Harry. What else do you want?"


End file.
